


Eucalyptus, Sandalwood, and Vanilla

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bathing/Washing, Inspired by Legend of the Seeker, M/M, Roleplay, Romance, Scars, Self-Indulgent, Servants, The Midlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few things in the Midlands will entice Jensen out of his warm bed in the morning, but an ingenious and devious servant may have just uncovered a fool-proof plan to rouse his King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eucalyptus, Sandalwood, and Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> Set in The Midlands from 'Legend of the Seeker.' Knowledge of that universe is not necessary to read this. Just a convenient setting for a royalty!AU (though my headcanon is quite expansive :P)

Eucalyptus, sandalwood, and vanilla. Jensen's three favored bath oils have been combined to perfection, a hint of each in the light, fragrant steam that rolls out of the marble bath chamber and reaches Jensen in his bed.

Seems someone is trying to rouse him early.

Jensen is loathe to leave the warm embrace of his sheets, but given the empty space beside him, he has a good idea of just who has drawn a dawn bath. He slips his robe over his naked shoulders—a thin one that's seen more use than any of the silk finery in his wardrobe—and yawns in a most undignified manner. If his people only knew what a sour old bear their liege could be before his morning meal. 

Toes curling into the rug to prevent an uncoordinated stumble, Jensen peers into the royal bathing chamber.

Perhaps if he awoke to a sight such as this every morning, Jensen would not be such a grumpy king.

Through the pale curtain of steam, Jensen sees a tall man crouched over the marble bath, his long fingers creating a swirl of ripples across the surface of the perfumed water. The short tunic he wears is like white gossamer, as thin as the vapors in the room, and Jensen wonders if it would disappear should he reach out and touch it.

Jensen's voice is as warm as the air when he speaks, "It's a bit early for a bath, is it not?"

"Your highness." The man kneels immediately and Jensen sympathizes for the way his bones must ache, pressed to the unforgiving floor. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Jared—"

"Please," Jared interrupts, green eyes foggy in the humid air, "I wanted to surprise you."

"And you succeeded. But Jared—"

The strapping young man ignores him for a second time, standing up beside the bath and gesturing to the water.

"You should enjoy the water before it begins to cool, your highness. I know you have a busy day ahead." He moves behind Jensen, averting his gaze as if he has something to fear, and his gentle hands loosen the ties on Jensen's robe. "Allow me to hang this for you."

The early hour may have dulled Jensen's wits, but something is out of sorts and his mind won't gather itself quickly enough to object.

With fleeting touches, Jared leads him to the bath and helps him in. The hot water rises over Jensen's legs, setting senses aflame before the discomfort melts into contentment. He sinks into the warmth, letting it wrap around him. This more than makes up for the loss of his bed so early, and he turns to say as much to Jared, but the man has pulled his tunic higher on his thighs and is stepping into the bath.

Jensen's words lose their way.

Setting his lean legs on either side of Jensen's shoulders, Jared folds Jensen's torso between his thighs. Jared's skin is flushed and smells strongly of sandalwood; he must have bathed before preparing Jensen's bath, more amenable to the early hours than Jensen. Lilting to the right, Jensen's lips and nose just barely skim the surface of Jared's skin before the leg is moved out of his reach.

"Jared—" he tires of repeating himself.

"Shall I wash you?"

Jensen notes the way Jared's eyes refuse to meet his. "Wash me? Are you feeling well?"

"Please, my King." Jared stops the questions with a firm touch, hands wrapping around the curve of Jensen's arms. "Let me do this for you."

Why Jensen didn't notice before, he's not sure—he blames that on the hour—but now he sees Jared's behavior for what it is.

"You may," Jensen acquiesces, letting himself go loose and falling back into Jared's capable arms.

From a basket on the marble ledge, Jared pulls a soft cloth and another vial of oil. The scent of eucalyptus, Jensen's favorite of the three, is heavier now as the oil is drizzled onto the wet rag. Jensen barely feels the cloth dragging across his upper back, Jared's strokes are so light. 

The bath is perfunctory at first, besides the fact that Jared's legs are near-bare on either side of him. It's rare that Jensen doesn't bathe himself—he'd insisted on independence as a young Prince—but as he's lulled by the perfumed air and Jared's constant touch, Jensen could see himself getting used to such indulgence. As it is, he begins to drift away from his constant thoughts of duty and obligation, floating to a place where he is utterly content with what life has bestowed upon him.

It has not always been so.

When his back is washed, Jared adds more oil to the rag and places it where Jensen's neck meets shoulder. Jared leans forward, letting the cloth find its way down Jensen's chest, each pass igniting his skin. Jensen doesn't comment but he sways back against the cool ledge, and so settles further between Jared's legs.

"Close your eyes," Jared instructs, his voice lighter than the air. "Let me take care of you."

As Jensen obeys, he senses a shadow over him and Jared's hands are suddenly at the level of his waist. Moist air, warmer than the steam around him, wafts over Jensen's ear, a hint of lips following in its wake. Jensen angles his head but a kiss never comes, and he keeps his eyes shut to hide from whatever he might otherwise see in Jared's expression.

"You have no idea how tempting you are, your highness," Jared whispers. "Day and night, you're in my dreams."

Jensen swallows his reply, lifting his hips to find friction against the cloth in Jared's teasing hand.

"I knew I'd be able to please you, given the chance. There's nothing I want more in this world than you."

"You can have me," Jensen says, turning his head away from Jared's mouth and laying a kiss on his inner thigh instead. Jared's legs squeeze tighter, and when Jensen opens his eyes, he sees Jared's gaze piercing the water, green irises focused on the significant swell of Jensen's cock.

In a whisper at Jared's welcoming lips, Jensen says, "I think you should join me."

"I cannot."

"And why is that?" Jensen kisses around every word, trying to keep Jared's mouth from moving away.

"Because I'm here to serve you."

Though Jared sounds meek, his hands circle Jensen's thighs below the water, oils making the touch slippery. With no effort at all, his fingers journey inward and up until he's teasing Jensen's most delicate flesh.

"You could serve me better in here."

"I wouldn't be so forward."

Again, Jared's deliberate touches counter the lie coming from his lips. Letting the cloth float off, he grasps Jensen's cock and tugs it through his slick palm, such a maddening slide that Jensen's eyes flutter shut. He's erect in moments, able to feel that Jared's equally aroused under that pathetic excuse for a servant's tunic. His jaw aches for want of Jared's cock in his mouth, the sharp taste of hidden skin.

"Jared, please."

"Anything, my King."

Jensen bypasses Jared's mouth in favor of the sweaty skin under his jaw, angling to find the corded muscles down Jared's neck.

"Get in here and take me," Jensen urges.

"It wouldn't be proper for a servant to—"

Jared pauses and his hands cease to move. The flush on his cheeks makes him look embarrassed, and Jensen is suddenly tired of the game.

Spinning so quickly that the water laps over the ledge, Jensen turns and stands with his palms open on Jared's indecently exposed thighs. Water spreads on the sheer fabric, nearly melting the tunic away.

"To what? To fuck a king?" Jensen crowds closer, purposefully taunting Jared with vulgar language and hauling Jared's legs around his waist. The press of Jared's cock against his stomach reminds him how badly he wants to be filled. "Strange, because you seemed more than happy to _fuck_ me last night."

The facade drops from Jared's face, eyes no longer hesitant. He takes a deep breath, purposefully inching the tunic higher on his legs.

"Why do you spoil my fun?"

Jensen grins. "You would have kept us from any real fun until you had your fill of the charade. And as you said, I have a very busy day and I could use a lengthy distraction."

With his cock heavy between his legs, Jensen wraps Jared in his arms and takes full possession of his mouth. His wet fingers tangle up into Jared's hair and Jensen considers the appeal of sullying Jared's indecent appearance even further.

Jensen's life is filled with fine things, but there is nothing he treasures more than Jared. The way Jared had accepted and loved him, even before he knew Jensen's title, are worth more than the piles of gold in his treasury. Every kiss is an opportunity for Jensen to thank Jared for his honest affection and—because Jared has his moments of doubt, being of common birth—to prove that Jensen thinks more of him than anyone else in his kingdom.

Jared's tunic slips off one of his shoulders, exposing his upper arm. Jensen has noticed his frame filling out, long limbs telling Jensen that Jared will continue to grow. Living in the palace for the last year, where food is never scarce, Jared has already gotten taller. The four inches Jared has on Jensen used to make the king sulk, but he's come to appreciate the fine strength in Jared's body.

Their kiss descends into mindless rutting, hips more demanding than tongues, and Jensen pulls back. He's eager for what he's been denied since he woke up, a demonstration of Jared's passion. Granted, he had a taste of it just last night, but Jensen can never have enough.

Jared's eyes are dark and sharp, a drop of sweat balanced on the bow of his upper lip. Jensen licks it away and whispers, "Why the act?"

"I wanted to give you something."

"Just give me you." 

Jensen is barely conscious of the words falling from his lips, but Jared's demeanor shifts immediately. Jared grabs another bottle of oil, this one thicker than the others and rarely found in their bath chamber—he truly came prepared—and slides into the water. The tunic is soaked but Jared doesn't remove it; the way the fabric clings to every inch of his body is like staring at a work of art, every muscle given shape. 

Where the fabric parts and Jared's chest is revealed, Jensen sees the furrowed scar that mars the skin just beneath his collarbone: the crude mark from the bolt of a crossbow that left Jared permanently disfigured. Though it happened long before they met, the sight angers Jensen. He could not have stopped the sharp arrow that nearly cost Jared his arm, but his family—Jensen's father ruled during the Midland Wars—could have prevented the battle that left Jared scarred.

A failure Jensen is determined not to repeat.

Jared's arms slip around him in an unyielding hold and now Jensen's the one hauled into position with his elbows on the marble ledge.

"I won't have you distracted," he says, dipping his chin to whisper the words in Jensen's ear. "I must not be trying hard enough."

With the thick oil on his fingers, Jared opens Jensen up with practiced skill. Knowing his reactions do as much for Jared as any physical sensation, Jensen lets loose his voice, unashamed to gasp or moan.

"I love that only I get to see you like this," Jared says, pushing two fingers into Jensen and pausing where his thick middle knuckles can keep Jensen stretched. "To see a king give himself over, completely at my mercy... That's a powerful thing, Jensen."

The burn and the pleasure are one in the same. Hip-deep in the water, Jensen feels like he could easily overheat were Jared not here to channel the fire into something he wants _more_ of. Jared's fingers twist inside of him, anointing him with the rich oil, until he begs for the full extent of Jared's attention.

"I'm ready," he pleads, ready to demand if he must. "Jared, take me before I—"

Jared cuts him off. "A king that begs," he says, voice holding no accusation or spite, simply love and not a small amount of wonder. "Such a sight to see."

As he stretches Jensen with three fingers now, Jared leans forward against the damp skin of Jensen's back, a promise laid down with a kiss against Jensen's shoulder blade. 

"You don't need to hold back with me, Jensen. Tell me your wants and desires, everything you've ever needed to keep secret. You're safe with me."

Though he treasures the words and the sentiment behind them, Jensen locks them away for later. Right now, he's tormented by his needs.

"Fuck me," Jensen says, sparing a moment's satisfaction when Jared's fingers squeeze tight around his hip, "before I go mad!"

Removing his fingers, Jared abandons Jensen for a moment to get more oil. Although the steam is beginning to dissipate, Jensen's senses cloud with the heady scents in the room: fragrance, oil, and the unspent passion of two men eager for one another.

Last night, Jensen had keened and moaned as Jared pushed into him slowly and with the utmost care, and he'd savored every thick inch of Jared's cock. While that was a unique form of pleasure, the sharp thrust Jared uses to enter him now is just as satisfying. Water surges around their hips, warm tongues lapping at Jensen's skin.

"How do you always feel so perfect?" Jared asks airily, thoughtful voice at odds with the hard, instinctual roll of his body into Jensen's. "Maybe you never came for me and I've simply dreamed you into existence."

Jensen throws his head back and sighs, "Then I'm dreaming with you."

Jensen shifts his legs further apart, the strain of his muscles arousing him even more. As a king, Jensen is restrained—calm, collected, and in control of his domain—but as a lover, he strives to lose himself, to give his body over and chase every kind of pleasure. Jared makes the perfect partner; he's able to seduce the king out of his own mind and bring him to a place where it's only the two of them chasing perfect moments.

"Jared"—he moans—"deeper!"

Jared's sultry laugh hits him deep in the belly. 

"I'm only so big, Jensen," he says, but he brings one hand up to Jensen's lips and strokes over them. Jensen's tongue darts out to tease at the pads of his fingers, sucking the tips into his mouth, while Jared drives his cock as deep as it will go.

To ensure that Jensen can enjoy every inch, Jared pulls himself nearly all the way out, spreading Jensen's hole around the head of his cock and letting him feel the excruciating stretch. Jensen loves every moment, pushing back on his toes.

Jensen's cock drags up and down through the water with every thrust, light friction making his skin tingle, but it's not enough to make him come. Jensen's unable to reach down—he can barely support himself with both arms on the ledge—and his mouth won't cooperate long enough to ask Jared for relief. But Jared knows Jensen's body well; he responds to the stiffness of Jensen's spine and the labored manner of his breathing by pulling Jensen's away from the ledge and turning them around. 

Sliding his cock out of Jensen, Jared moves to the other side of the bath and sits down on the marble seat beneath the water. He reaches out and spreads Jensen's thighs, tugging him forward to straddle his lap.

"Still with me?" Jared asks, lips ripe for kissing, and Jensen leans forward instead of answering. As their tongues twine around one another, Jared fits his cock back into Jensen's body, teasing the head over and around his hole before pushing up. He breaks away from Jensen's lips to whisper, "Now, take what you need."

With his hands on Jared's shoulders, one gripping the wet tunic, Jensen sets his own pace, dropping his hips hard into the saddle of Jared's thighs as if he's riding his favorite stallion. Though his limbs are lean and continue to fill out, Jared is built for this—growing up in the fields and carved out from long days in battle—and he compliments Jensen so well. He wraps one palm around Jensen's cock, jerking it against his stomach as Jensen bucks on his lap, and keeps the other at the small of Jensen's back to hold him steady.

Joined so fully together, their lips touching with every deep breath, it's not long before Jensen's spine locks beneath the pressure of Jared's hand and he comes. His semen spills between them in bursts and disappears in the oily water. Never losing his grip, Jared throws his hips up with all the force he can muster and fills Jensen with his release. Jensen swears he can feel it, but it's likely just the last surge of his exhausted muscles constricting around Jared's cock.

The water is lukewarm but Jensen's loathe to move. Thinking for both of them, Jared eases Jensen off his lap and hauls himself out of the water. He lets the dripping tunic fall to the stone floor, giving Jensen an eye-full of clean skin along with the softening weight of Jared's cock between his legs. After grabbing two clean linens from another basket, Jared helps Jensen step up and out of the bath, wrapping the dry cloth over his shoulders.

Jensen's skin is warm and flushed, mixed oils leaving it supple. Jared trails his fingers down Jensen's arms, wrapping their fingers together.

"I never said good morning," Jared says, kissing Jensen's temple as he's done without fail every morning since he came to live in Jensen's castle. "So, _good morning_."

Sitting on the marble ledge, catching their breath and sharing fresh linens, Jensen and Jared savor the short time they have before obligation takes them to opposite ends of the castle for the rest of the day.

"Surprise me like that again," Jensen says, "and I may change my mind about waking up at such an early hour."

"Noted, your highness," Jared teases. He uses a corner of the dry linen to wipe lingering drops of water from Jensen's throat before smiling. "I was hoping this would go the other way. It's been far too long since I got to enjoy being taken."

"That's why you set this up? Hoping the king would grow impatient with his gorgeous, submissive servant and ravish him?"

"Perhaps."

"Then next time, I won't ruin your charade."

"Don't worry, Jensen," Jared assures him, leaning close. "Because I'll have my way with you tonight, and you're going to _ravish_ me over and over, until I tell you to stop."

Jensen laughs but there's no disguising the way his blood rushes up to the surface of his skin.

"Who is the king here?"

Jared's lips curl into the most generous of smirks. "I'm not your queen if that's what you're asking."

"No," Jensen laughs, "I wouldn't dare."

 

FIN


End file.
